Ypsilon's Quotient
by Queen of the Red Skittle
Summary: A botched experiment sends a scientist's mind into a Xenomorph Queen's body. A yautja clan soon becomes interested in her.
1. i

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing except for my OCs.

 **A.N:** Strong language and gore.

 **A.N#2:** Wrote to a hodge podge of songs, like Luke Howard's "August," Gregory Douglass' "Alibis," and The Hope Arsenal's "Wake Your Soul."

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"If you dissect a bird / to diagram the tongue, / you'll cut the chord / articulating song."  
―Sylvia Plath, _The Collected Poems_

 _._

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Ypsilon's Quotient

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My name was Dr. Yulie Larson, and I was a fucking idiot.

If I'd known how today would've ended, I would've stayed in bed. Or left on a shuttle. Or shot myself. Any option would've been better. To anyone listening, here was some context: I was a xenobiologist for the Weyland-Yutani Corporation, tasked to study Xenomorphs. Specifically, their brainwaves. The bugs' sheer potential had corporate pissing themselves to weaponize their killing power. If we could somehow harness the Xenomorph, tame it, the Company would become unstoppable.

Needless to say, every attempt to control the bugs resulted in failure. The growing conclusion among the Company's science community was XX121 was too indomitable, too unknowable. They'd never become willing servants. Of course, that was when someone had the bright idea of inserting human consciousness into a Xenomorph. Instead of taming the creature, they said, why not cut out the middle man and put on the bug suit ourselves?

That's where I came in.

Even as I replayed this all back to myself, I realized how deep in the FlavorAid I was. I won't deny my part in my current predicament: I'd volunteered for the assignment. Asked for it, even. Was it out of curiosity? The chance to be on the cutting edge of science? To discover something that would sear my name into history? Maybe it was a combination of all three. Maybe it was simply the mind outracing the heart, or some bullshit like that. No matter the reason, I was stupid enough to believe everything would work out.

I probably deserved this.

Due to the insanity of the project, it was deemed off the books. Way off the books. The only people who knew of the experiment was myself, the bigwigs who sanctioned it, and fifteen others, including a small marine dispatch. We were sequestered to a backwater world well away from any trade routes or prying eyes. Cue in three and a half years of work, mountains of specimens, and shitty coffee.

Spoiler alert: it fucking worked. But not the way it was meant to, not at all.

When we finally came to the live trials, I wanted to be first. Call it arrogance. I was supposed to settle into a lobotomized Xenomorph drone, make contact, then pop back out. Simple. The bug and I'd been hooked up and everything. Computer simulations indicated a successful match. I flipped the switch and knew darkness.

Arrogance made me think I had the bugs figured out, but I was wrong. I knew that now. There'd always be something about the Xenomorph beyond humanity's ability to measure and define. Because when I woke up, it wasn't where I was supposed to be.

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.s.

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Proprioperception was how someone knew where to put their feet even when they weren't looking. Groaning, I tried turning my head but found it tethered in place. I instinctively tried to open nonexistent eyes and suddenly saw. No . . . felt _._ I could smell the bindings holding me down, could hear the age of the concrete beneath me. If I concentrated, I could even sense the soil beneath the compound. Everything was coloured in shades of gray, molded from electrons. I breathed in the microcosm of my cage and understood everything.

I was in the Xenomorph Queen's body.

It took a moment for the disorientating panic to subside. The Queen wasn't even connected to the circuit. She was on the other side of the facility, lobotomized for study but nothing more. I tried to assert my logic and remain calm. _Well, at least I can confirm our theories on Xenomorphs' vision through electromagnetism,_ I thought. Despite the fuck-up, I couldn't help the burst of excitement. I was the first human to experience the world as a Xenomorph. Hoo-rah.

First order of business: get off the floor.

I wrenched upward, the bindings snapping like toothpicks. Trying to get to my feet was like standing on backward-facing stilts. The legs were digitigrade, contorted in all ways different than my human own. When I managed to stand, I hunched to avoid hitting the ceiling with my comb. I glanced at the far wall. There was supposed to be a guard watching over the Queen, but after three and a half years of a vegetated state, people didn't expect her to move. When I bumped my snout against the observation glass, no one came screaming.

"I'm in here!" I tried to say. My voice came out in a horrific screech. I instantly shut up. After being stuck with the marines for a few years, it was clear they were all trigger-happy in some way. They'd blast my face off, no questions asked. If I were to untangle this snafu, I needed to force them to see who I was. By now they should've realized the experiment had gone wrong and were putting two and two least, I hoped so. _Wouldn't that be a way to go,_ I thought. Achieving a scientific marvel and then dying because some marine couldn't keep his finger off the trigger.

I reached out and stroked a wall with a long, dark hand. Stress cracks shone like in my vision as white lines, thin as spiderweb strands. Weakness. Crouching, I launched my shoulder into the wall. The cracks grew, singing. I rammed the wall again, struggling against time as well. Someone must've heard the racket by now and were coming to investigate. Probably with guns.

By the fourth assault the concrete shattered and I was free to the outside world. I lifted my head and sucked in a breath, getting a sense of direction. I decided to go to the nearby field my colleges and I often visited for exercise. I took a step and promptly faceplanted in the dirt. Coordinating between four arms, massive head, strange legs, and a tail was a lot harder than standing. I forced myself up and took a shaky step. By the third one I found my centre of gravity. At the twentieth I was running, sailing over the landscape in bounding strides. Strength coiled in my legs. I could run mountains.

A part of me mourned. When I transferred back, I would never feel this power again for the rest of my life. A greater part danced for the promotion—even better, fame—waiting for me. Everyone who'd ever doubted my pursuits would eat out of my hand. I opened my mouth and released the inner piston nestled possible, my vision sharpened as the secondary mouth sampled the air. _Amazing. It must act as a sensory organ as well,_ I thought. I couldn't wait to tell the others.

Before I knew it, I'd reached the field. A small slope descended into it, offering the perfect vantage point to see my message. With the barbed end of my tail I carved Y-U-L-I-E in the soil. I turned to admire my handiwork. _This should get their attention,_ I thought. _Try to shoot me now._

After some awkward positioning, I sat down and waited for the marines to come, eager for the moment their fear would morph into awe.

Except they never came.

It was hard to tell the passage of time in the Xenomorph's body. The cold didn't affect my carapace, so I didn't shiver, nor was there need to expel waste. There wasn't even hunger. Nothing helped track the time like a human's discomfort would. When it became dark, there was no ingrained fear of an outside attack. I sat in the gray void of electrons, wishing for my wristwatch. Stars gleamed above me in tiny punches of white. As scientifically ground-breaking as it was to see as a Xenomorph, I couldn't wait to return to the colour spectrum.

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.s.

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By the following morning I tried to ignore the growing unease. It must've been over nineteen planetary hours by now. Were the marines just taking their time to form an attack? _They'd better not this useless after three years of guard duty,_ I thought. As I sat and waited, it dawned on me that we hadn't figured what'd come next. We'd run simulations, but at the end of the day there was no way of knowing how long a human consciousness could last in an extended transfer. How long could I be trapped in a body not my own before my sense of self degraded?

I shook my head in an attempt to dislodge the thoughts. No use thinking like that. No use freaking out just because the marines were late. Still, what was stalling them? I debated leaving my message. _Well,_ I thought, looking down at all four of my hands, _maybe I can handle a few bullets._ My lips wrinkled with my mental frown. _Fuck it. Let's get this over with._

This time I didn't run to the compound, cautious of an ambush or other attack. I kept pausing at intermittent intervals to sample the electrons with my inner piston, hoping to get a clue before I stepped in metaphorical shit.

I was about three quarters the way to the facility when I tasted a coppery pungency. The smell grew thicker until it was too strong to ignore. Blood, and lots of it. A sudden clutch of hunger stabbed me. I paused. Though I was the sole essence animating the body, it seemed outside stimuli were still capable of manipulating the Queen's instincts. I shoved the hunger down and kept going. That'd be awkward if I saw my colleagues and grew hungry.

The blood soon mixed with a sharper, more acrid tang. Gunpowder. I slowed, hackles rising. What the fuck happened? Not a firefight over my account, I hoped. I was nearly to the lab now, pace a crawl. Scents I didn't recognize began interlacing the others, like the strange musk that seemed to linger in certain spots. I stepped around the bend and saw the compound. I took one look and the unease that'd been brewing all morning burst into full-throated dread.

The lab was in tatters.

Outwardly, everything seemed intact. All outer walls in place, nothing unseemly. But with my new sensory ability, I could sense inside the building itself. Bullet holes peppered in the concrete. Equipment sparked and smoked. Blood coated the walls like gristly paint. Bodies—

A deep hissing emerged from my mouth. Could Xenomorphs have panic attacks? Was this body even physiologically capable? I didn't know how long I was paralyzed, too horrified to move. _Maybe someone's still alive,_ I thought at last. _A survivor. Anyone._ Deeper still, I prayed for a functioning computer.

I circled around. I was looking for a way in when I came across one of the my colleagues lying face-up on the ground. Her mouth was in an O of surprise, eyes wide. It was Dr. Sarah Hofstadter. I picked her up with my primary hands. She weighed as much as a flower, just as delicate. I turned her over. She'd been stabbed with a two-pronged weapon in the back, her stomach and diaphragm punctured. Her death would've been agonizing. I struggled against a new surge of hunger as I lay her down, disgusted at my reaction.

That's when I saw who'd killed her. It was a little further away, face-down, dead. It was human-shaped, bipedal and composed of similar anatomy, but that was where the similarities ended. It must've been at least seven feet tall, covered in strange multi-plated armor and net suit. Long tubes descended from its elongated crown, similar to dreadlocks. When I turned it over onto its back, I saw painted skulls decorated its waist. _His._ I saw through his metal skirt to notice he had external genitalia somewhat similar to a human's. His torso was riddled with bullet holes almost too numerous to count. His blood smelled foul.

I've heard of the species before. They were yautja, the predators of the galaxy. I'd read enough of the research conducted on their kind to know they lived to hunt challenging prey, humans included. I had colleagues who were fascinated with the yautja, but I never shared their interests. Then what were the hunters doing here? I swung my head, as if to search for the reason. Weyland-Yutani had specifically chosen this place because it was far away from anything. Literally all the terraformed colonies in the quadrant to choose from, and these yautja picked this tiny facility? _Doesn't matter now,_ I thought. _Just focus on finding a computer to get out of this body._

I left the dead hunter and bulled my way through one of the entrances. It was a tight fit, but as soon as I made it past the door the hallways grew large enough for me to crawl on my stomach. The air was saturated with blood and gunpowder and pulverized concrete. I came across another yautja, dead. Six marines surrounded him, also dead, all sliced up. One marine—Higgins—had a goddamn spear in his chest.

I kept going, struggling to keep calm. More dead bodies, more ruined rooms. At certain points it seemed like grenades had gone off, walls blasted through. I passed the main lab that'd been my life for the past three and a half years and smelled the equipment cooking inside. Sparks sputtered and spat. Someone inside was curled in a net, except the net was too tiny, contorting the person into a bloody mess. I moved on, trying to shove the mounting dread back _._

I needed to find my human body. I turned down a hallway for the med bay, knowing the high probability it would be there. I arrived at the glass observation deck. When I looked inside, it took me several minutes to understand what I was seeing.

My body lay beneath a fallen medicine cabinet. By sheer bad luck, the confluence of my head's position and the cabinet's trajectory had aligned perfectly. I reached inside the med bay and caught one of my ankles. My head painted a bloody smear as I pulled myself out. Yesterday it had a heartbeat. Breathed. Drank coffee. I cradled myself to the Queen's chest. Like Sarah, I weighed nothing. _For fuck's sake, don't panic,_ I thought, but it was useless. Oh, god. I could never go back. Even if the equipment was prepped and working, I would have no living body to transfer to. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck—

I wished I'd never gotten out of bed yesterday morning. I wished I'd never volunteered for this experiment. I wished I'd never left Earth. I wished for so many things I didn't realize I was trembling. The weight of my new reality slammed like a semi truck and suddenly I was screaming. I didn't know how long I howled, but when I finally tapered off, two immediate things became clear.

One, I was beyond screwed.

Two, I needed to get out of this place.

At first I tried wiggling backwards, as if careful not to damage anything. I hadn't been claustrophobic at that point, but suddenly everything was too much. I surged upwards, straining against the metal vents and concrete ceiling. The ceiling rumbled, but held. I surged again, not caring I was starting to feel pain, not caring my carapace was getting cut. _Get! Me! Out!_ My legs were pistons, my body the compressed air. When I finally exploded through, I was screaming again, this time from pain.

One of my human arms had snapped off in the struggle and now dribbled blood. I stared down at myself, hysterical laughter filling me like helium did a ballon. Death by fucking medicine cabinet. Goddamn. I tried laughing but what came out was like a screeching hiccup. Worse still was when I tried crying, nothing happened. There was no release. I felt like a zoo animal stuck in a cage, unable to do anything except rock back and forth.

After an unknown amount of time, I eventually lay my human remains under a tree. I placed Sarah next to them, then forced myself to think. We checked in with the Company every three days, which meant they would soon realize something was wrong. Policy dictated they would have to investigate. At best, I would have to wait two weeks for a rescue.

For the first time since I woke up in the Queen's body, I smiled. Once I convinced the search party I was me, I could help them reconstruct the lab again. They could provide a comatose patient and I could transfer back. Not all was lost.

I was still smiling when I heard a distant crash in the bushes. I swung my head, inner mouth extending. A survivor? I pounded after the sound, bulling through tree branches and vines. I didn't even care if it was a gun-happy marine. The landscape shifted, sloping upwards. I burst through the trees and skidded to a halt.

A lone yautja survivor leaned against some rocks several feet away. Like the others he was male, decked in patches of armor, tresses stopping at mid-chest. But unlike the others, his mask had been discarded, giving me a view of the crab-like face. I'd seen autopsy photos of dissected yautja, but never a live one one before. Deep-set eyes blazed at me beneath heavy brows, almost human in their expression. Two sets of tusked mandibles twitched around a lipless, toothy maw. Spikes dotted the sides of his forehead and elongated crown. A mark appeared seared in his forehead, three lines together. Rings encircled his thick neck.

He was not without injury: a rudimentary splint bound his lower right leg and gel covered bullet wounds across his abdomen. He'd been tapping at a wrist computer the moment I appeared but it kept hissing and sparking electricity. He abandoned it unsheathe two vicious-looking wrist blades. Instead of stabbing himself like I'd assumed, he stood on his good leg and held ready to strike.

Something was growling, deep and rasping. It took a moment to realize the awful sound was coming from me.

"I should kill you," I said. My words may've been garbled hisses, but the threat was clear. His people had destroyed my lab and killed my colleagues. I took a step forward, halving the distance between us.

He sucked in a breath and roared, mandibles flaring to their widest extent. I leaned forward and roared back. Suddenly the urge to eat was overwhelming. I broke off, hating the hunger pangs more than I hated this injured hunter. Until my mind withered, this body was mine to control, not the other way around. The anger drained. It wasn't this half-naked thing's fault I was stuck like this, it was mine. It was mine for demanding to volunteer first instead of having a random grunt take point, mine for being over-confident in the first place. Mine, mine, mine.

The yautja's mandibles moved in agitated jerks when I didn't attack, wrist blades still poised to strike. Some part of me admired his idiocy in the face of overwhelming odds. _Yeah, not today buddy,_ I thought, turning away. _You live for now._ Maybe he'd die on his own. All what mattered was the Company rescue crew and transferring my consciousness out of this Xenomorph.

I returned to my Y-U-L-I-E scrawl in the field. Suddenly the effort seemed pathetic, childish. _Just two weeks,_ I thought, holding the hope close. _Just need to hold out for two weeks._

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.s.

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It was early morning when I felt the tremor of something big landing not too far away. I climbed to my feet in joy. It'd been ten days since the lab was destroyed, ten days of eating wildlife and staving boredom. Without electrical equipment it was difficult to be one hundred percent accurate, but it seemed I didn't exhibit any mental disintegration. I still knew who I was. Despite the promising outlook, I started and ended each day with a mental check-in as a precaution.

 _I am Dr. Yulie Larson, human, born 2275 A.D on Gelenus III, human colony 54A-5996, sixth district. My parents are Michelle Bourbeau and Christian Larson, I had a dog named Brownie, my favorite colour is red—_

So on and so forth. To pass the time I tried cataloguing all of the body's responses in anticipation to the Company's questions once I returned to a human body. And boy, I guessed there would be a lot. I daydreamed of the press conferences I'd give. Maybe I'd write a book. After, of course, I was given clearance and my NDAs were waived away. Maybe I'd be given my own research branch at the Company. And a pay raise.

Throughout the days I caught glimpses of the lone yautja. Outside of a heavy limp he seemed to be surviving fine. In the beginning he'd moved around the compound, dragging his kind away. He'd even removed the spear that'd been stuck in Higgins' chest, hiding any evidence they'd come through. After that I'd assumed he'd leave the same way he'd come, but he stayed. I sensed him lurking, keeping his distance in the trees, as if tracking my movements. The idea of him hunting me was laughable. I could stomp on him if I wanted. _Better leave before the Company catches you,_ I thought. _You'd be brought to a lab and studied faster than you could sneeze._

Speaking of the devil, where was he? I tried scouring my senses for him and found nothing. Usually he was at the field's treeline this time of morning. Maybe he'd also felt the tremor and decided to get out of Dodge. Smart fucking choice.

Despite my eagerness to see human faces, I knew I had to play my cards right. They had to see my written name first or I could end up with a mouthful of M56 smartgun fire. I stayed where I was, pacing the field. They'd have to examine the compound first, which could take hours. Then they would have to expand their search until they found the field, which could take more hours. _I've already waited ten days, what's a few more hours?_ I thought. I was lucky enough the rescue crew had come four days early.

I watched the twin suns creep into midday. Shadows lengthened. My thoughts were still on meeting the Company's crew when I heard heavy footsteps in the grass.

It was the yautja, splint gone. He was limping slowly, twin wrist blades extended. A strange contraption was strapped to his left arm, one I'd never seen him sport before. This time he wore an angular mask, the eye lenses dark. I faced him and hissed. Just because I didn't kill him didn't mean I wanted him in my space, and certainly not this close. Even though he was half my height he seemed so small, so inconsequential. What could he hope to achieve against a Xenomorph Queen?

"You should be hiding," I said to him. I smiled long teeth at him. "My people are coming."

A blend of curious amusement tickled me as he kept approaching. How close was he planning on getting? Did he expect me to attack this time? He was maybe twenty feet away when he finally stopped. A clicking growl emerged from his throat as he stared at me, blades ready. He didn't move, as if waiting.

Suddenly something didn't feel right. I tensed, rising higher on my toes to extended my secondary mouth. _The hell? There's more of you?_ Sure enough I counted fourteen others scattered among the treeline, positioned in an rough hemicircle. Some carried what looked like cables. Even as I wondered where they'd all come from, my guts twisted. Staggering from the dawning realization, I looked down at the yautja and found the contraption directed at me.

A net exploded in my face and chest. I reared back with a snarl. The material was surprisingly strong, straining against my attempts to break free. I immediately turned tail and began to run. Others came out of the woodwork, seven on each side in a clear flanking maneuver. I could outrun them, easy. After almost two weeks inhabiting the Queen's body, my stride was flawless. This would be ea—

I roared my anger and surprise as something whistled around my legs and bound them together. I ate dirt, skidding several feet as my snout tore up ground. _Motherfuckers!_ It was a bolas, thick as climber's rope and made of the same netting material. The yautja honed on my position, their calls and loud chatters filling the air.

The thoracic limbs were already hopelessly snared, but my primary arms were free. I tried untangling my legs but the cord was twisted worse than headphones in a pocket. I roared again, hoping the sound would buy me time, but instead it seemed to spur the yautja on. Two reached me. Snarling, I rolled to my side and whipped my tail around, hoping to strike at least one of them. I was panicking now, flailing. I couldn't die here. I had to tell the Company the experiment had worked, had to reap the accolades.

I pushed myself up on my main hands and lashed out. The panic became a pressure in my chest and I screamed, my vision whiting. The netting around my snout restricted my movements as I tried to bite. The ends were caught on my comb, stuck like fishing line in a tree branch. There was a loud shot and more netting draped over me. My tail stabbed and struck until it too was bound in netting. I kicked my legs out and was viciously gladdened to feel them connect with a yautja. I hoped all his bones were broken.

The fight was done by the time all fifteen yautja surrounded me. Those with cables now threw them over, binding me over the netting. Soon I was trussed up like some prized hog, my limbs constricted into immobility. A molotov cocktail of exhaustion and frustration burned.

A new yautja stood over me. From my angle he seemed monstrously large. How had I ever thought them small?

"Please listen to me," I said, trying to form words in the screeching hisses. _Please, for the love of God, understand me._ "I'm actually human. Jesus Christ, this is a mistake. I'm not actually a Queen, I'm Yulie Larson. Please lis—"

A large metal tube was placed around my netted mouth, muzzling my jaws. I tried shaking it off, but moving under all the netting and cords was impossible. The hunter pressed a clawed foot on my head and roared above me, shaking a fist. The others joined with bellows of their own. The humiliation was searing.

I was glad when they stopped celebrating. Now it was clear they weren't here to kill, not after all the nonlethal efforts to keep me alive. Some part of me wished they did. I hadn't done much research on the yautja culture, but I could only guess my fate wasn't going to be pleasant at all. The yautja began pulling me, each taking a cable in hand. Soon we neared my message and I tried to get their attention with one last struggle. _No! Go around!_ No one noticed my protests and I was dragged over the name carved there, erasing it.

…

 _TBC_


	2. ii

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"[Father, the thick air is murderous.]  
I would breathe water."  
—Sylvia Plath, from _Full Fathom Five_

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.s.

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There would be no search party after this.

I tried to take my mind off how screwed I was by focusing on the alien ship's interior, but my deafening self-pity kept interjecting. _The Company's rescue crew will see my human body and think me dead._ The atmosphere was thicker, carrying an undertaste of methane and nitrogen. A single gasp of this air would burn human lungs. _They'll never see my name in the field and piece together what happened._ I was kept in what appeared to be the cargo hold, still under the nets and cables. Internal machinery hummed as we flew through space. _They'll never know the experiment was a success._

Maybe I could escape this and swing the ship around. Go back and find the Company. My growling resounded against the walls. I couldn't even move six inches—how the fuck did I expect to commandeer the ship? I had to stay calm and think. There wasn't a problem I couldn't solve and this one would be no different. Had to think this through. Everything would be fine.

But the more I explored my options, the more hopeless my situation appeared. The only thing to make this worse was if I were strapped to a bomb.

The cargo bay doors hissed open and someone entered. I tensed. It was the same injured yautja from before, the lone survivor. His limp was nearly gone as he made his way towards me, claws tapping on the floor. A freshly-cleaned human skull adorned his haunch, a skull that once belonged to one of my colleagues. Now I wished I had murdered him back on the planet. I lunged, or tried to. The netting kept me locked but I struggled anyway, striving for his throat. It was definitely his fault I was now in this mess.

 _You motherfucker,_ I thought. _Should've killed you._

He crouched close to my head. The mask was gone, revealing his ugly crab face. Though his eyes were almost human I couldn't read them, couldn't tell what he was thinking. It was like having a cat stare at me. He reached down and lay a meaty hand against my carapace, next to the lobotomy scars we'd given the Queen. The skin was reptilian to the touch, pebbly.

Desperation replaced the anger. _Please let me go. Please, please, please, please. You can drop me off on the nearest planetoid and I promise you'll never see me again._ The bay doors opened again and the hunter withdrew his hand. He looked over his shoulder, rattling. The newcomer was the same yautja who had stepped on me during the capture, most of his armor still strapped to his large body. He also forwent a mask, revealing a missing right eye and mangled right upper mandible. When he approached, my hunter rose and bowed his head. The two began conversing in guttural punches of sound, their tucks clicking at random. Several time they looked at me. At one point the newcomer clasped the other's shoulder and gave a brisk shake, growling. My hunter seemed to stand a little taller after that.

Soon they both left, still conversing, leaving me to stew and brood. I retreated within myself, trying to escape the inescapable march to my fate. Without a morning or night it was even harder to tell the passage of time. All I could do was wait.

 _I'm Dr. Yulie Larson, human, born 2275 A.D on Gelenus III, human colony 54A-5996, sixth district. My parents are Michelle Bourbeau and Christian Larson—_

Oh gods, what would they tell my parents? The truth? Or do one of those overly vague, glossed over condolence speeches? Knowing the Company, probably the latter. I could already see my father collapsing in the nearest chair at the news, hand over mouth. Over the next few months he'd do that little gesture until my mother would snap at him. She'd done that before. My mother—well. There'd be no chair-collapsing on her part. Would she feel vindicated? She'd always disapproved of my ambitions in the Company, never ready with praise. At my funeral she'd probably ask for a refund for the flowers.

A shudder ran through the ship, jarring my thoughts. I felt the engines switch to propulsion, signaling an approach. Inertial dampeners soon took hold and the ship slowed to a crawl. There was a quick jolt of contact before the engines powered down. We'd landed.

I concentrated my senses, trying to get a picture of what was happening. Instead of being on a planet like I'd thought, it seemed as if we were docked in another, much vaster ship. The new ship was huge, bigger than even my senses could reach, filled with other vessels and more bodies than I could count.

The clan's mothership.

 _Sokolov would shit his pants if he could see this,_ I thought. An actual yautja mothership . . . little data had been collected on them over the years. Always cloaked and nomadic, getting close enough to study one proved extremely challenging. The irony made me want to laugh. I vowed to try and retain as much information I could. If— _when—_ I found myself free and back in a human body, I planned on reporting all of this back to the Company. I could picture Sokolov's envy already.

There was a tramping of many sandaled feet and doors slid open. More yautja streamed in, at least twenty. Before I knew it I was being dragged out of the cargo bay and down the ship's ramp. The space was large, filled with other docking ports and other ships. Eighty, ninety yautja crowded around ours, their combined musk bitter and oily. There were both males and females in attendance, even some pint-sized children. I had a feeling everyone wanted a good look at me. _Like a prized cow at a fair,_ I thought. Despite the large audience the air was strangely hushed. Reverent, even, but not quite.

The yautja team who'd captured me stood at my side, my hunter at the forefront with the one-eyed leader. The scene reminded me of big game hunters on Earth posing for a photo. I wished the ground would open and swallow me whole.

The biggest yautja I'd yet seen stepped forward. He wore some sort of cloak over one shoulder while various skulls and ornate weapons draped the rest of his considerable frame. His dreadlocks were long, nearly to his abdomen. His electrons tasted old. Like all the other adults he bore the three marks on his forehead, except his were far older. All others bowed their heads as he passed. He ignored the rest of the hunting party to clasp my hunter by the shoulder, growling. It was as if a dam was unleashed and all the yautja began roaring, pounding the floor and fisting the air. Several waved spears. Even the children joined in, their little mandibles flaring.

They were still celebrating as I was dragged away. It wasn't too long before I was placed into some kind of stall, three walls high and the fourth one open for access. An alien crane hooked into the netting and hauled me upright, spinning me around so my head faced the corridor. Yautja entered and began dismantling the nets and cables, securing a limb before moving to the next. It was clear they'd done this before.

My neck was put in some sort of yoke, the design reminiscent of Earth's medieval stockades. Heavy chains kept the yoke tethered in space, though it did allow me some movement. Manacles clamped around my primary wrists. Tugging didn't even budge them. Both the yoke and the manacles were made of some unknown metal alloy, the kind Weyland-Yutani would've killed to get their hands on. My legs were hobbled together and my tail tightly bound, useless.

One of the hunters were younger than the others, his dreadlocks not as long and frame not as robust. When he tried to wrestle one of my secondary hands into a manacle, I broke free and backhanded him. He thudded against the wall, ass over heels. There was an uproar of clicking tusks as the older adults looked on. The—teenager?—pulled himself to his feet, growling. When he attempted the maneuver again, no matter how I tried to dodge his grip, he managed to cuff my thoracic limbs together. He turned and faced the others, head high. No one laughed again, though a few shoved him around afterward.

At last the tube was pulled from my snout. I opened my jaws wide in an instinctual stretch, relishing the movement. I was closing my mouth when a metal bit was suddenly placed there, trapping my inner piston. I tried to shake free, snarling, but the gag was cinched tight.

Just as I thought it was over, pain like never before seared like lightening and I bellowed. Oh holy fuck, they'd cut my tail off.I lunged, roaring through the gag. The air stank of acid and hissing metal. When they pressed something scalding to cauterize it, I lost my shit. I didn't know how long I struggled, screaming. Oh fucking gods, the pain was terrible. Eventually I stomped and thrashed myself to exhaustion, the chains stronger than my agony. Everything was a deep, throbbing pain.

The yautja trickled out, leaving me alone. I was now calm enough to realize they'd left a quarter of the tail. How much more were they going to take? I had a horrible vision of them removing bits at a time, like peeling the legs and wings off a fly until only the buzzing body remained. I clenched and unclenched my hands. Had to get out. Had to run. But no matter how I strained, the bindings held.

During the three years we worked together, my colleague Sarah often spouted about finding silver linings, especially when nothing seemed to go right. _How about now, Sarah? You're dead and I'm trapped and mutilated in a goddamn alien stockade. Where's the silver lining in that?_

.

.s.

.

Perhaps only true happiness left was the fact I could sit. But for how long? Already I'd lost the track of time, suspended without motion in the perpetual semi-darkness of the stall. From what I could tell, other Queens had once been where I was now. The other stalls were empty, but I could still sense ghost electrons of their presence.

No other yautja appeared but I could hear them moving about their business. The ship breathed of them, sinking of their musk and filled with their sounds. If I concentrated I could follow their movements, watch their patterns. The ship was scattered with arenas where two unarmed combatants fought to a winner. Vessels came and went from the mothership, some big, some small enough for a single yautja. Things were traded. Food was eaten. For a nomadic race this was the confluence of their people, their floating mecca.

When watching the outside grew too depressing, I retreated inward. I wanted to go home. I wanted to curl under covers and shut the world away. It was childish. I was childish. None of this had gone according to plan and I regretted everything. Never had I felt so powerless and insignificant, as if the whole of my existence was rendered useless. I listened to the dull throb of my maimed tail and realized how much I missed crying. It was maddening how I couldn't do the most human thing in the most inhuman body. The best I could do was rock my head side to side, my comb rasping against the chains holding the yoke suspended.

Footsteps drew me out of my spiraling thoughts. It was the lone survivor from the planet, unmasked and dressed in only a leather-and-metal loincloth. He seemed leaner without all the armor and fishnet. A dark row of quills ran down his chest. This time he wasn't alone: a little version of him stood by his side, also unmasked and minimally dressed. It was obvious it was his child. The kid only came to his father's waist, his head seeming bigger than his whole body. Come to gawk? No, that wasn't it. Maybe my hunter had come to teach his son, maybe even to show off.

I hated this yautja like I've never hated anything in my life. Getting stuck in this Xenomorph was on me, but my capture was on him. I lowered my head and stared. Even without eyes he must've sensed my fury, because he straightened and squared his shoulders. His gaze narrowed. He directed an odd chuffing sound at his son, who rattled back. _You keep a good fucking grip on that boy of yours,_ I thought as they moved away, _because one day I'm going to kill him in front of you._

Then they were gone.

For better or for worse, I was back to being alone. At first I was viciously glad. Fuck him and his son. But as the time ticked by, boredom and loneliness set in. It was difficult to tell, but I guessed it'd been at least two weeks since I'd spoken to another human. Two weeks. Not a word. I'd read somewhere language represented an aspect of human individuality. The others were love, sensitivity, and imagination. Like the yautja removing my tail, would I begin to lose the other aspects of my humanity? There was still the possibility my sense of self would eventually degrade. Wouldn't that be funny: the yautja going through all that trouble only to end up with a drooling, vegetated Queen. But maybe not. Nothing was for sure yet.

 _This body is incapable of speech. The Company will have to find a way to facilitate communication if they want this experiment to succeed,_ I thought. Couldn't forget to add that to my assessment once I returned to civilization. I mulled over possible solutions. Maybe a chip inserted in the Xenomorph's version of their speech centre?

I was still keeping myself busy with various scenarios when the stall shuddered. At first I figured I'd just imagined it and thought nothing. Then it jolted again, harder this time. The floor began lowering, me along with it. I tried moving my head. What the hell was happening now?

I was lowered into a shoot, the new walls tight against my sides. As if by remote control my bindings were suddenly released, even the hobbles on my legs. I was being freed? The yoke pulled away from my neck, the chains pulling back to the top floor. The only thing still cuffed were my secondary arms. I tore the gag from my mouth and gave the Xenomorph equivalent of a sigh. Ohhhh, that felt better.

Once free, there was only one way out of the shoot. Everything screamed a trap, but what better option did I have? Without most of my tail I had to relearn to find my centre of balance. I stumbled into a hallway, half-crashing into walls. My search for an exit led to a huge, sand-covered arena. I extended my inner piston, hearing the electrons there. It was the lower part of the ship, away from the main thoroughfares. The space tasted barren, less traveled. There were several exits, but there were platform-like, similar to how I got down. Even if I'd tried to climb one, none of them were big or strong enough to support my weight.

Scuffling in the sand had me turning. Yautja. There were at least fifteen of them, approaching in two loose circles. Most were lightly armored, a few almost naked. One was female. I hissed, showing all the teeth in my head. _Want to play? Fine. Let's play._ I cut to the left, making a hard turn to intercept several of them. A familiar sound whistled through the air. It was a bolas again, but the throw wasn't perfect. I kept my legs spread wide and it wrapped around only one hock.

I was learning too.

I turned to face my attackers. Without a full tail it was harder to make sharp moves. The shifting sand didn't help either. I dug my claws in for better traction and forced myself through the limitations, screeching. I rushed, hoping to scatter them. Unlike the yautja on the planet, several seemed unsure.

One of these yautja broke away from the main pack, net-firing contraption in hand. Several were calling to him but he either didn't hear or was ignoring them. He was close. Too close. I lunged before he could fire and I wrapped my hands around his shoulders and waist. He wiggled and struggled like a fish out of water, pounding my snout with his fists, roaring. It would've hurt if I'd noticed. He fired the contraption but the net went wide. Before I knew it I was tearing into flesh. Something was shrieking but I couldn't pay attention over the sounds of crunching bone.

When the first swallow of meat went down my throat it was like an alarm went off. I dropped the yautja, shocked. Half his ribcage and chest was a mangled mess, blood soaking the sand. It was astonishing he wasn't dead. If they didn't stop the hemorrhaging soon he would be. I backed away, stunned.

When the others came at me with their nets and cables, I didn't resist. It was over in minutes. I huffed in the sand, blowing puffs up. From my vantage point a large hunter stepped close to my head. It was the one-eyed yautja from before, the stub of his torn mandible twitching. He barked at the others as he grabbed a cable and demonstrated a securing technique. A few hunters were grizzled like him, but most were less scarred, their tresses not as long. These paid attention the most to the one-eye's growls. The older ones hung back, clicking and rattling amongst themselves quietly.

The wounded yautja coughed blood. Instead of getting him to a medic, two of them kneeled by his side until he gasped his last. Only then was a stretcher brought to take him away. Beneath the netting I desperately tried to analyze what had happened. I'd never killed anything sentient like that before. There'd been no science involved, no dating collecting. Just raw murder. But had it been me who had killed him? Was I still one hundred percent in control? _It's impossible otherwise,_ I thought. _The Queen was literally in a lobotomized state with zero brain activity. I'm the only thing running this show._ And yet— _and yet—_ there'd been a moment of white noise where I didn't remember biting the yautja.

 _I'm Dr. Yulie Larson, a person, a human, born 2275 A.D on Gelenus III, colony 54A-5996, sixth district. My parents are Michelle Bourbeau and Christian Larson, I had a German Shepard named Brownie, when I was six I broke my leg—_

It was hard to concentrate over the taste of the hunter's blood. Maybe the proximity of the yautja had triggered another of the body's instincts. If yautja treated Queens like this, it would make sense the Xenomorph monarch would genetically harbor an intense reaction towards them. It would fit in the theory explaining the body's instinctual response to certain external stimuli. It was yet another thing I would have to warn the Company about when they proceeded with the experiment. _Maybe they can tamp down the Xenomorph's base nature further?_ It could prove costly if a Company mission went south because a Xenomorph's instincts derailed it.

Still rattled, I was glad when they dragged me away. I was brought to a small pen annexed to the shoot and left there. The nets and cables were loosened enough so I could break free on my own. When the last yautja left, I shed the bindings, movements slow. _I can't lose control._ I examined my primary hands in front of my face, clenching them. _I have to stay me for as long as I can._

After an unknown length of time, the door of the shoot reopened with an ominous hiss. I knew what waited for me if I went through it. I had to show them I wasn't a Xenomorph, but Yulie Larson. Without a tail, I'd have to use my fingers. _That's fine. I didn't have a tail for most of my life anyways,_ I thought _._ Like last time, I exited the shoot, went down the hallway, and entered the arena. And like last time, there were yautja waiting for me, ten this time. I crouched down, ready to draw the Y, when the yautja rushed me. It was a different tactic from before and I wasn't ready. I had to abandon my attempt. It was clear all of them were more experienced hunters, different from the first go-around.

There was no nets this time, only cables. The ends were attached to metal pistons that were somehow anchored to the ground, like magnets. The magnets warped the surrounding electrons, sending white flashes through my vision. It was disorienting. I somehow ended up on my face eating sand, humiliated. _Can't give up._ I pulled towards my pen in a macabre sense of déjà vu. _Next time I'll get it right._

.

.s.

.

Except I didn't get my message across next time. Or the time after that. Soon I lost track of how many times I went through the cycle of capture and release. Rinse, lather, repeat. No matter how hard I tried to bring attention to my finger-drawing behavior, it was failure after failure. I felt back in the lab, struggling against the computer's flashing errors. The sand wasn't dirt. It was harder to see my attempted letters, and without a vantage point they were near-impossible to spot. Not that any of the yautja stopped to notice. All what mattered to these fuckers was bringing me down in new and creative ways.

If there was a silver lining, it was I was getting better at recognizing their tactics. It took longer to capture me now. Even the experienced teams had to work for it, and by the time they were done their growls carried a new tone. Was it frustration? Annoyance? _Welcome to the club,_ I thought. I wanted off this fucking merry-go-round. I used the arena's expanse to my advantage, skirting the yautja to search for a way out. And when it became clear there was no escape, I did it just to piss them off. It was obvious they expected me to attack—and if my consciousness wasn't holding back the Queen's deep rage, I probably would've. During one session I was able to avoid their nets for longer than usual, bulling through any flanking attempts. It was like playing keep-away, and I was getting good at it.

Maybe too good.

I was in such a game. It felt like hours since I'd been released. The yautja still hadn't been able to get close, and their snarls and barks to each other were sharpening. I was thoroughly enjoying myself when I caught on a specific set of electrons. I slowed, inner piston extending. When I confirmed who it was, my chitin hackled. _Him_. He was dressed in light armor, maskless, that human skull resting against his thigh. He'd entered through one of the platforms and was now walking towards me.

Over the course of the sessions I'd run over a couple of unlucky yautja, smashing legs and breaking arms. Each time I forced the instinctive rage in check. I didn't try to eat any of the others, the fear of losing myself stronger than the Queen's genetic fury. But seeing the survivor blew all of that out of the water. I wanted this one dead.

I charged, roaring. I was close enough to read the tense line of his shoulders when another hunter leapt on my back. From here? And how? I howled as a spear-thing was skewered into my dorsal carapace. Acidic blood poured down my side and smoked in the sand. The yautja hung on like a barnacle as I stomped and bucked. When I resorted to rolling, he jumped off. It was the one-eyed yautja, three working mandibles extended. He shook sand from his tresses.

"Fuck you too," I said. I hadn't forgotten how he'd pressed my snout in the dirt. I lunged at him as the first nets descended. Instead of fighting them like past-me would've done, I kept running. One Eye tried backpedaling, but I was too close. He struck out with a long blade but I ignored the attacks. I caught him with a primary hand and slammed him into the ground. I crouched above him like a bird nesting an egg. His struggles were exhilarating.

I grinned above his snarling face. "How bout this? You like that?"

He wasn't the one I wanted to kill, not really. I'm sure I broke a rib or two as I slowly crushed him into the ground. When the nets started piling I threw him, enjoying the way he skidded and rolled. I didn't struggle the rest of the bindings. At this point it was routine. When I was tied down I watched One Eye get up, bleeding from his mouth. The surrounding yautja looked on. Sometimes their tusks clacked rapidly when one of the fallen got up, but they were silent now. Despite his broken ribs and bruised organs he didn't limp or grasp his sides as he strode towards me. Tough bastard. This species was clearly no slave to pain.

My hunter went to go stand besides him, rattling. He removed a small cylinder from his belt and periscoped it until it was nearly as tall as him. He gave it to One Eye, who grabbed it with a growl. I watched the exchange, hissing. Again the survivor proved to be a decoy, and again I was stupid enough to fall for it. One Eye stalked over. He pressed the cylinder against my head and the world exploded into pain.

I must've lost consciousness. When I became aware of my surroundings again I was upstairs in the stall, stuck in the yoke from before. The awful gag was back. _Dear gods in hell,_ I thought. Whatever that cylinder was, it packed a fucking punch. My head felt like it was filled with freezing needles. Thinking hurt. Existing hurt. My limbs were sluggish, like they'd been left in the cold for too long. I guessed I'd been given a dose of a Xenomorph Queen taser. Training days must be over. I watched the yautja milling about my stall. My legs were spread this time, bound to a frame. There'd be no sitting.

At first I didn't struggle. I'd been through it so many times, fighting was useless. Even the embarrassment wasn't there. That was until a door in the back of the stall opened and a medium-sized, gelatinous tube was wheeled in. My mind went cold. It was an external ovipositer, complete with oviduct. I'd dissected two in my career. This one seemed to be in good condition, but its electrons sounded weird, as if they'd been recently thawed. It wasn't until the the proximal opening was positioned between my legs did I lurch in my bindings. They couldn't be serious. All our research indicated Queens never willfully reattached to a disengaged ovipositer. Not fucking possible.

The ovipositer was fitted against me and shoved. I jerked in the chains so hard they squealed. I was sorry I ever wanted out of the training sessions. I'd give anything to go back there. I fought with all my power, straining against the manacles and yoke and _ohdeargodstopstopstop_ —

My lower abdomen cramped as the opening was fed into me. I bore down, trying to push it out. Someone tapped the cylinder against my inner thigh and agonizing electricity locked my limbs. I felt as if I'd been coated in cement. My mind began drifting like an untethered balloon, watching above it all.

I wouldn't do it. They couldn't make me. But even I said that powerful spasms swept over me. It felt like a cramp, only stronger, deeper. It reverberated until it was overwhelming. _The Queen,_ I thought, groaning. It was her instinct again, her yearning. Her rage for the yautja paled in comparison to her desire to produce children. _No! I won't!_ I struggled against both the Queen and the yautja's wills. I wasn't a Queen, I was human, and I wasn't going to—

The spasm returned, stronger than before. I could barely think over it. _I'm Yulie Larson. Xenobiologist for Weyland-Yutani. Employed November thirteenth, 2296. Thirty-one years old._ The yautja stopped pushing the proximal ovipositer into me and chattered and clicked amongst themselves. Though my body couldn't resist, my mind kept crashing into walls. I would give up all recognition just to return home. I wanted to be whole and human again, not some transplanted consciousness. Not this.

My abdomen cramped again and I clenched down on the gag. I could no more stop the influx of hormones than if I tried to grow wings. Queens could disengage from ovipositers at will, but to do that I would have to physically remove myself. And to do that, I would have to escape my prison. Back to square one. My gods, I was such a fucking idiot. I was hooked up like a brood mare.

It was only then I noticed the empty stall. They'd all left. All but one.

My hunter looked at me, mandibles converging slowly. Without the others around he seemed insignificant. Painful experience taught me better. _Damn you,_ I thought. _I swear, when I get out of here I'm tearing you apar—_

"Wait," he said.

I went still. That was a human word. It was gargled and rough, but undeniably English. I ogled at him, convinced I'd imagined it. When he drew out the letters of my name in the air, I couldn't breathe. I bobbed my head once, twice, three times, as much as the yoke would allow, still unsure I was dreaming. He must've seen my name in the field. It was the only logical explanation.

He pointed to the left. Obedient, I moved my snout where his hand directed. When he moved his hand to the right, I followed it and stayed there. I didn't give a fuck how slavish I looked. If he could get me out of this horror, I'd play goddamn fetch.

His hand dropped. His gaze was hard to discern, catlike. At one point it rested on the Queen's lobotomy scars. What was he thinking? _They must've seen our facility,_ I thought, struggling to keep up with the revelations. Had they come because of our research? It seemed too coincidental their attack happened as we began the live transfers. Had they come to stop us, or had everything been the confluence of sheer bad luck? Without a form of communication on my part, I was only guessing at truths. It was possible I would never know.

"Get me out," I tried to say around the gag. The stall filled with my garbled hisses. "Fucking god, please get me out."

When he didn't react or speak, I struggled for calm. If he knew I was Yulie Larson, a _human,_ then he should tell the others there was a mistake, that they needed to free me immediately. No one should share this fate.

When he started leaving, I began to struggle against my bindings.

I screamed at him through the gag. "Wait! Stop! You have to get me out of here! I'm Yulie! I'm human!"

He was halfway in the corridor when he looked over his shoulder, mandibles converging. Then he was gone.

He would never return again.

.

.s.

.

The pain from the forcible insertion eventually faded into a dull discomfort. It felt like I had a speculum left there. Over time, even that discomfort became nothing.

I became gravid from sheer hormonal change alone. I felt the eggs leave my body, the ovipositer shuddering and slurping behind me. A conveyer belt took the eggs away. It didn't take a rocket scientist to know the yautja were freezing them into stasis. We did the same to preserve ours back at the Company to keep them from premature spawning. _Breeding foxes for the hounds,_ I guessed, reminded of an ancient Earth hunting custom. Unlike a real Xenomorph Queen, I didn't give two shits what would happen to the eggs. I'd never wanted kids anyway. It'd been another point of contention between my mother and I. _You can't only have a career,_ she had said. It'd been her favorite line of attack.

 _Well, what about now?_ I thought to her, wherever she was. _Aren't you proud of me? Here's hundreds of children._

In my darkening days I replayed the last moment I had with my hunter over and over. At first I gnawed on my hatred of him like a dog with a bone, fantasizing all the ways I'd split him down the middle. But as days—weeks? months? _—_ crept by, the more my thoughts drew to the undeniable truth. My lack of knowledge of yautja culture failed to provide foresight. It'd been my fault for not recognizing the possibility he'd call his people to capture me. He was nothing but a scapegoat for my own mistakes. I didn't hate him, I hated myself.

My thoughts circled like buzzards until I didn't know what I thought or felt anymore. My hunter didn't save me, but maybe he couldn't. Like a holo vid re-watched countless of times, the moment eventually lost focus.

Isolation became my company. At first I tried to maintain the mental check-ins, but after awhile I stopped trying. What was the point? Maybe forgetting myself would be a mercy. More and more I felt like a disembodied voice, trapped in a body not my own. I was like Ypsilon in the old essay I'd once read, the floating brain in a jar, waiting for his masters to reshape him to their purposes. How did the essay end? I tried to remember, but found I'd forgotten. After a time I fell in a trance-like sleep, retreating further and further inward until I stopped sensing the outside world, the darkness a comfort.

…

 _TBC_


	3. iii

.

"We are not what we might be; what we are  
Outlaws all extrapolation  
Beyond the interval of now and here:  
White whales are gone with the white ocean."  
―Sylvia Plath, excerpt from the poem, "Two Lovers and a Beachcomber by the Real Sea"

.

.

.s.

.

I came awake like a shotgun blast: sudden, and all at once. Klaxons bellowed, sounding like the death cry of some monstrous beast. Fire and smoke filled the stall, thick and choking. Disorientation made me think the room was tilted, but then I realized the stall was on its side, as if a giant had overturned everything. The chains to the yoke had snapped. They dangled from the ceiling listlessly, as if tired themselves. I didn't know how long I lay there inhaling smoke and staring across at what had been the floor. Sounds felt muffled, as if heard underwater. The air stank of burning metal and caustic fumes.

 _Get up._

I think I'd been dreaming of my mother. I'd watched her hands as she peeled garlic cloves, the human movement of it beautiful.

 _Get up._

I didn't want to. I was comfortable where I was. A puff of wind could've blown me away.

 _Get up get up get up get UP._

Every motion felt coated in rust as I stirred for the first time in—months? Years? My first brush of freedom tasted like surprise. Even turning my shoulders was astonishing. The smoke in the air was uncomfortable, but I was a creature great enough to handle it: I was a Xenomorph Queen. I mean, in a Xenomorph body.

The frame and ovipositer had fallen with me, twisting my lower body. I folded in half and began untangling my leg bindings. My hands were still in the yoke's manacles, but I was patient. Lizards in the cold probably moved faster. The bindings were strong, but I wrenched them until they snapped. I stretched each leg slowly, feeling them bend and move.

After my legs felt loose enough, I tried rolling to my feet. The ovipositer resisted and hate surged within me. _You fucking thing._ I lurched forward and snarled at the deep scald of pain. It felt like my lower abdomen was ripping in two. I didn't care. Nothing could've stopped me. I pulled so hard I nearly fell snout-first when it released.

Once the pain abated, I found a shard of fallen metal on the ground. I reached and stabbed the stub of my tail it until it bled. I cupped some blood in one hand and flung it over the manacle. The metal alloy hissed and resisted the acidity, but eventually it was eaten away to get the hand free.

First thing I did was tear the gag off. My mouth had been open for so long I almost forgot how to close it. When I did, my body sang with relief. Hallelujah. I repeated the same process with my other hand and ones in the thoracic cuffs. When all four hands were released I tossed more blood over the yoke until I could wrangle my neck out.

At last I stood on my own two legs, free. It wasn't happiness I felt—I was too distant, too drained, still feeling half in a dream—but something stirred nonetheless. I stumbled out of the stall and slid down the slanted corridor. To this day I don't know how long I would've wandered the broken hallways of the yautja ship if I hadn't come across the gaping hole. It looked like there'd been an outward explosion. I climbed the jagged sides and the sparking wires, trying to avoid getting impaled on razor-edged metal. Then I reached the top. A warm breeze reeking of smoke and superheated metal curled around me _._ I basked in it. How fortunate we were to crash on a planet with a breathable atmosphere.

I admired the burning landscape. Even if I had wanted to get revenge on the yautja for my imprisonment, the destruction of their home sated my bloodthirst enough.

Speaking of the devil, that's when I noticed yautja crawling out of the wreckage of their fallen ship like ants from a drowned hive, sluggish and disoriented. Killing them would've been child's play. I didn't fear this weak enemy. Most would die from their injuries, while the rest would be busy burying their dead. I growled. Still, I didn't want to be near when they regrouped. I vowed to slit my own throat before I was ever subjugated again.

I descended the side of the ship until I hit ground. With each step I gained confidence in my strength and soon I was running across alkaline fields. The terrain eventually steepened and I crested a rocky knoll. I looked out, inner mouth extending. I was far enough to see the scope of the mothership's damage. It'd skidded for what seemed like miles, parts of it broken off along the way. Not all the docked ship were attached. Some must've escaped. What caused it to crash in the first place? A conflict with a rival clan? Mechanical failure? Unlucky hit by an exploding star's shockwave? I would never know, and I didn't care. I was free. That's all what mattered.

Maybe exploring would do me good. Wake me up. Though I assumed I would be one of the biggest baddies around, until I met more of the local fauna, it didn't hurt to show caution. The new landscape was a vast one, filled with columns of uneven stone formations and geothermal sulfuric lakes. There was vegetation, but they came to my ankles and smelled weird. If there was bounty on this world, we sure as hell didn't land near it. _Better than a yautja ship,_ I thought. Unless I encountered strange circumstances again, this world would serve as both my new home and grave.

.

.s.

.

I should've known a world as sparse as this one yet with breathable air had been artificially terraformed. Should've guessed. Because within four planetary days, I saw the facility.

It was a research laboratory very similar to what I had, but its design was much more sophisticated. It was perched at the base of some cliffs, squat and long. At first I thought they were a new cutting-edge company, but then I spied the Weyland-Yutani logo plastered on one of the walls. I observed it from afar, hoping to stay out of its sensors, yet torn. How long had I been gone? The question gnawed on me like no other. _If it's long enough for them to advance their technology . . ._ I tried not to think about it.

I tried to focus on the positives and decided to make contact soon. Was it excitement I felt? Anxiety? Curiosity? There was no name for the emotional soup sloshing inside me. If the Company was here, it was clear they had moved past my failure and were doing quite well. Maybe they'd succeeded in replicating the consciousness transfer experiment. I couldn't wait to find out.

A rumble distracted me. I turned and saw a land transport vehicle leave the facility, its eight wheels kicking up clouds of dust. I recognized the LTV for what it was, but like the building, its design was upgraded. I followed at a distance, traveling between rock columns. It wasn't too hard to guess they were headed to the yautja mothership.

I stopped at the same knoll I had days ago and watched as the humans reached the wreckage. Their LTV slowed to a halt and eight of them descended the ramp. All but three carried guns. _Guess some policies never change,_ I thought. They stayed for awhile until they appeared to drag some equipment from the ship into the open. More standing, more talking. Then they loaded their LTV with their prize and left.

I waited until they were gone before moving closer. The hope of human contact outweighed my trepidation as I traversed the alkaline plains and made my way to the ship. Old LTV tracks meant they'd visited the mothership several times. I had a hunch they would visit again.

I found a metal overhang big enough to hide in and I settled in to wait. Every sound had me tense and hissing. I kept sampling the electrons for a surprise attack. I sensed a few scattered yautja among the debris, but it was hard to tell if they were alive or dead. Every time I debated leaving, hope of meeting the Company won out.

My patience was rewarded. By the next planetary cycle another LTV appeared, again with a crew of eight. But unlike last time, all but one carried a plasma rifle. I shifted. As they descended the LTV's ramp I could hear their voices, taste the rise and fall of their words. Were they bantering? Shooting the shit? Laughing? Before I knew it I was drifting closer and closer. I couldn't help it. How long had it been since I last spoke? My mouth opened and closed on its own as if I too could join in. _You have to show them your name,_ I suddenly thought. Yes. My name, I had to show them my name.

Despite our proximity to each other, they didn't burst into panic. I figured electronic interference from the ship would mask my presence from their sensor sweeps. At least, I hoped. The humans spread out, moving slowly in pairs. Even their uniforms appeared sleek and advanced, their movements practiced. They kept overturning debris or kicking things over. Eventually I feared they would enter the ship itself and make our reunion more difficult, but then a roar shattered the air. Everyone began shouting. There was a stink of supercharged electrons and immediately the roars took on a pained, furious note. I moved closer until I was nearly on top of the scene.

The yautja was lean, armorless, dressed in only a leather-and-metal loincloth and wrist computer. Bruises and cuts from the crash covered his shoulders and flanks. He was young, but not so young he was defenseless. He grabbed a pipe and swung it like a club. The pipe connected against one of the marine's helmet and the man went down like a sack of concrete. Before the yautja could swing his weapon again another marine darted forward and stabbed a stun baton into the back of one of his knees. The yautja howled as his leg went dead, mandibles convulsing. Without missing a beat he lashed out with the pipe again, but the marine had already rolled away.

Now the hunter was surrounded. More stun batons appeared, striking whenever the yautja fended off another attack. Soon the creature was breathing like a winded bull, garbling. He must've not eaten or drank for awhile for him to be this fatigued one of his legs senseless, all he could do was try to keep the humans away. One of the marines now shot his chest with a dart. The yautja tore it out in a frenzy and tried to rush at the soldier. Another dart struck his upper thigh. The hunter whirled around, arms spread in challenge, bellowing. He took another dart in the lower back and shoulder before he stumbled to one knee. His snarls turned to clotted growls. When he collapsed, it was like watching a tower fall.

At first no one moved, as if shocked. Then someone whooped.

"Nice shot, Bev!"

"Jesus, that was intense."

"That tranq could've taken down an elephant."

"Will you clowns stop?" someone said. The revelry died. "We don't want the rest coming after us. Let's bag our prize and bug out. And someone check if Roberts is dead."

A woman crouched by the man who'd taken the pipe to the head. "Still breathing."

"Lucky sonuvabitch. McBath, patch him up. The rest of you, let's load this fucker."

Grunting, it took the combined efforts of six of them to half-drag, half-carry the subdued yautja towards the LTV. The one called McBath took out a field-issue med kit and began stabilizing the fallen man. When the others were gone I stepped around the scrapheap and came into view. The woman's head snapped up and her mouth fell in a wordless denial. I reached out—to calm her?—but then she was in my mouth and I was biting down and oh how the blood was warm—

It wasn't until I was holding nothing but a pair of gore-drenched shoes did I stop. I stared at them. Oh. I let them fall. That's not what I meant to do at all. I had meant to show her my name. But as I looked down at the ground, none of the letters had been spelled.

"Holy _fuck!_ "

I looked up in time to see a marine point his plasma rifle and fire. I shrieked as bullets peppered my face and comb. I lunged forward and slashed a hand in an arc. The gun was torn out of the guy's hands and was launched somewhere in the wreckage. The man backpedaled and tripped over his feet. I took a step back, then another. Without thinking I reached down and took the injured marine called Roberts into my arms. I retreated around the scrapheap with him just as the others rushed over.

"Chernov, what the hell—"

"A fucking Queen! A bug Queen! It was right there!"

Everyone went quiet, as if holding a collective breath.

Chernov kept babbling. "It killed McBath and took Roberts!"

There was a quiet _goddamn_ from the leader. Then, louder: "We don't have the firepower to handle a Queen. We go, now."

"What about Roberts?"

"Yeah, we can't just leave him."

"He's dead already. We'll come back to find his remains, but for now let's hustle before she returns. We have enough on our plate with the predator. Let's _go._ "

I listened as the LTV was fired up. Its wheels spat clouds of dust as it roared away. Its rumbles soon fell quiet and I was at last alone with the marine.

The man was like a corpse for all he moved, but he had a heartbeat. I struggled against a new surge of hunger as I lay him on the ground. He was lucky that pipe to the head hadn't damaged the middle meningeal artery, but an epidural hematoma had formed in one of his parietal lobes. He needed medical attention. _I have to give him back,_ I thought. I didn't know why I took him in the first place. Then inspiration hit me like a thunderbolt. I would bring him to the facility and force them to see my name. He was my ticket. Or meat shield, if I was being honest.

I sampled the air and found it still ladened with the yautja's bitter musk. I knew what awaited the hunter. He was going to be cut into six different ways of varying size and studied under a microscope. Poor fucker. No helping him, now.

 _But you,_ I thought, reaching for the marine. _You can help me._

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.s.

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The man was limp in my arms as I carried him towards the research facility. He'd woken once and was delirious, asking for ice cream. He didn't seem to notice I was holding him and soon went back to his semi-conscious state. I tried not to jostle him too much, though I knew I had to hurry. If I waited too long more LTVs would come, guns blazing. I didn't know why I wanted to make my stand near the facility, but it felt right.

 _I'm going home._ I held the man tighter to my chest. I'd be able to finally tell everyone my story. To speak with a human voice, to touch with human hands . . . to see in colour. After so long in shades of gray, I'd forgotten what it was like.

I was so caught up in thoughts I didn't realize I was nearing the lab. It squatted at the base of a rock cliff, a beacon of hope. I wasn't quarter of a mile out before I sensed movement from within. _Stay calm and all will be calm,_ I thought. A string of marines with rifles filed out of the base, forming a defensive perimeter. One looked like they had a smartgun. As I thought, no one shot me when they saw the marine unharmed in my grasp. They wanted to, though. A miasma of sweat and nerves and aggression hung in the air. I moved slowly and made no sudden movements.

I came as close as I dared before lowering the man to the ground. Still crouching low, I wrote my message in the grit, making sure each letter was articulate. When I was done I stepped back, letting the humans see. I wasn't worried they wouldn't read it; the ground was slanted, giving them a perfect view. There was a low murmur. Two in particular moved closer, an older man with a military haircut and a woman. Both were dressed in fatigues.

The man spoke in first in a low voice. "'I am Yulie Larson'? What is that?"

"I think that's a name, sir," she replied, her voice equally low.

"I know that's a name. I mean, why the hell is a Queen writing it?"

"Maybe she was trained? I wouldn't be surprised if she came from the predator ship," the woman replied, nodding towards my truncated tail. "Though I've never known such recorded behavior from XX121 before."

I struggled against the rising anger. It seemed the act of a Queen writing English was too large for them to see the small picture. They weren't asking _who_ Yulie Larson was. For some reason they didn't remember me in the Company's records.

". . . goddamn bugs and their tricks," the man was saying. "Bringing Roberts back. I don't understand it."

"I'd love to find out where she learned how to spell."

"You'll have to do that under a microscope, Doc. It's way too dangerous to keep alive just for a psychology experiment." His shoulder straightened. When he spoke again, it sounded like had made a decision. "I'll tell my men to keep the bug's the head intact for you."

"Much appreciated, Colonel. But what about Roberts?"

The man grunted. "Let's just hope he survives what happens next."

I heard everything as if from far away. Going on an operating table was another evil I couldn't let happen. I was already moving before the Colonel gave the signal to shoot. I should've known this would happen. The crushing disappointment I felt wasn't for them, it was for me forgetting what it'd meant to be employed by Weyland-Yutani. In the Company's eyes, it was clear Yulie Larson was already dead and forgotten.

At first the marines shot wide, kicking up plumes of dust and grit. They were trying to separating myself from the injured Roberts. After a second they abandoned that plan and just shot at me. I ran forward as the first bullets peppered my sides. I didn't feel them striking my body. My carapace repelled most, and those that did go through stung briefly like wasps. Chaos descended as I reached the defense line and began stomping. Bodies popped like grapes beneath my feet as I crushed and tore and ripped. Gunfire was deafening.

Then someone threw a grenade. I ducked just as it detonated, but I was too late. It exploded and for a weightless moment I saw and felt nothing but white. When I crashed back to reality I was screaming in pain. Holes were blown through the left side of my comb. I staggered back, lopsided, off-balance. Blood dripped like acidic rain, hissing whenever it touched ground. Some began shrieking in agony as the blood struck them.

I felt such a swell of rage I lost focus and went after anything alive. Time lost meaning. Pain was inconsequential. I was tearing a slab of indescribable meat when I became aware of the ringing silence. I raised my head and found myself standing in carnage, slathered in blood and gore and bullet holes. Bodies littered the ground. The air reeked of viscera and gunpowder. I'd smelled this combination before on a different planet, under different circumstances. How long ago it felt.

 _Years of love forgotten in the hatred of a minute,_ a small voice said. I slowly shook my head, careful of the sharp, throbbing pain. Blood from my broken comb oozed down the side of my face and curled down my jaw. I'd read that quote somewhere, once. My smile was ghastly even to myself. _Looks like long-term memory holds firm despite the extended transfer. Have to include my findings in my report._

But there would never be a report. I knew that now.

There was low sound behind me. I swung about. After a moment of listening, I found Roberts buried beneath several dead marines. Somehow, unbelievably, he'd survived.I reached down and pushed the dead from him. The injured man was mumbling, eyes closed and brow scrunched in pain. His hematoma had grown, but there was still a chance he could be saved. I cradled him in my arms, careful not to get any of my blood on him.

I extended my secondary maw and tried to taste beyond the blood. There were still living humans scattered among the compound, maybe eight in number. But they weren't coming after me, weren't arming themselves. Good. I bet they were the scientists. I took a step forward and suddenly sensed the captured yautja from before. Like Roberts, he was still alive. I must've arrived in time before the cutting started.

Despite its squatness, the research facility was still larger than my old one. After bulling my way through the front entrance, I found the corridors were wide and tall enough to let me walk without crawling. Still, I struggled against a foreboding sense of claustrophobia as I followed signs for the medical bay. The walls felt crowding, as if converging on some unseen point to trap me.

At last I found the room. It was large and long, stairs leading down to the open surgical theatre. A huge glass observation deck made up the far wall. _I used to work in a place like this,_ I thought. Conducted similar experiments, labored like one obsessed. _Probably like them,_ I thought, noticing two women huddling behind some cabinets inside. One held a small gun to her chest. She kept saying something over and over, as if praying.

I ignored them, more focused on the yautja. The hunter was strapped to the centre table, bound at his ankles, hips, chest, wrists, and neck. He was naked. He appeared to be waking from sedation, fighting against the restraints. His snarls were thunderous even behind the thick glass. I tried to enjoy his struggles, but it was hollow pleasure. It was too alike what I'd endured. There were other yautja next to him on other tables, but they were dead. One was in literal pieces. A small tray rested next to him, filled with surgical implements. _Dissecting his kind in front of him? That's cold_.

I forced my way into the lab, shoving the doors open like they were aluminum cans. The yautja stopped struggling the moment he saw me. His eyes tracked my movements as I descended into the room. I put Roberts down on an empty bed. He murmured but didn't wake. I let him be; his fate was in the women's hands now. Then I stared at the yautja, hissing. I owed the hunter nothing, but it was different being on the cutting table, held prisoner not of your choosing. There was no doubt he'd do the same to me, but it was a moot point. Yautja would never capture me again.

He hands balled into fists as I neared, and when I opened my jaws, he leaned his head back and closed his eyes.

I went for his chest binding first. As I used my teeth to rip the band, they accidentally scraped his skin and caused him to bleed. I fought not to bite down. Several more inches and I could be buried in soft guts. Then the foul smell of his blood rose up and all thoughts of eating were deterred. When the chest band was ripped I went for one of his ankle restraints. I was just finishing when his newly-freed foot kicked up and smashed my face. The power alone had me stagger back a step. Then I snapped forward and roared, voice deafening in the confined space. The yautja subsided, tusks clicking in agitation. His glare was defiant. Little shit.

I caught his leg and tightened my hold, but if he felt pain, he didn't show it. I finally relented. It was petty and not worth it. I repeated the treatment on the band on his other ankle. He didn't kick this time. I finished the band around his hips and one of his wrists, then stepped back. I figured he could take care of his other wrist and neck on his own.

As expected, he made quick work of the rest of the restraints. When he was done he slipped off the table. There was a wobble—tiny, almost unnoticeable—then he stood to his considerable height. Blood dribbled down his chest and hips where my teeth nicked him.

"Go on," I said, nodding to the open door. "You're free."

He stared at me as if waiting for the trick. I snorted and swung my body away. Fine. Let him stay if he wanted. As I pretended to be focused elsewhere, I heard him snatch his loincloth, a discarded bio-mask, and other gear before loping for the entrance. Then he was gone, footsteps pounding down the hall.

I was about to leave as well when I caught my reflection in the mirror of observation deck. A Xenomorph Queen peered back, lips wrinkling. I was a literal mess. Bullet wounds peppered my flanks and sides. The blast from the grenade left open holes in my comb and fractured half into a cracked eggshell pattern. It was a miracle the grenade or stray bullet hadn't made it into the soft meat of my brain. Beneath everything were the old lobotomy scars. I reached out and stroked the image.

 _You'll never be human again._

My hand began trembling. Some inward force twisted and I suddenly rammed my head into the glass. Cracks splintered. I smashed again and again until the mirror was in pieces. When it was completely destroyed I stood dully in the wreckage, rage spent. This facility would never be my home. Neither would these humans be my people; mine had already died back on the planet. I let my hands fall.

I peered into the room on the other side of the glass. It was filled with exotic equipment and sleek displays. That's when I saw a digital calender on a desk. At first it was meaningless to me, numbers without context. _December 12_ _th_ _, 2462._ Then my brain froze. There must've been a mistake. I staggered back. There was no way it'd been one hundred and fifty-four years since I was captured.

 _My parents._ Unless they'd been put in cryosleep, they would've been dead for years. I tried to remember the last moment I had with them. It'd been over a holo vid session before I disappeared for my top-secret mission. My father had wished me good luck while my mother hovered over his shoulder like a disapproving shadow. I hoped they lived well.

No wonder the marines didn't recognize my name. I turned. There was nothing left to do here. All the equipment was unknown to me. There was nothing to conduct the transfer experiment, and why would there be? It'd been top secret, and the Company never dwelled on failure long. No doubt they scrubbed the whole attempt once they found our dead bodies and destroyed lab.

I must've moved too close to the cabinets because the sharp click of a hammer rang out. I looked down and saw the woman pointing the gun at me. Her grip was unwavering, the look in her eyes clear. I stared back.

"Take care of him if you can," I said, directing a hand at Roberts. I didn't try to form words like I once had, it just felt right to speak. The woman's gaze flitted to him, then back to me. She still didn't shoot, and I didn't attack. The pause become pregnant. Something passed along her face—surprise? curiosity?—but I was already moving away. When I went outside I came across the line of destruction I'd left. When hunger stirred, I didn't fight it. I bent down, mouth opening.

No use letting good meat go to waste.

…

 _TBC_


	4. iv

**A.N:** At last, the conclusion! Thank you everyone for reading, and until the next adventure!

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"Here I am, a bundle of past recollections and future dreams, knotted up in a reasonably attractive bundle of flesh. I remember what this flesh has gone through; I dream of what it may go through."  
―Sylvia Plath, _The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath_

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.s.

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With my long strides it was easy to catch up to the young yautja. Did I feel some sort of interest in his well-being because I freed him? Just curious to see how far he'd make it? I didn't know. Maybe I was still reeling from the realization of everything and didn't want to be alone. So when he whirled on me, snarling, I didn't know how to react.

He stood with his masked head lowered like a bull about to charge. When he roared, I pulled in a breath and roared back. In the ringing silence we sized each other up, as if waiting to see who'd make the first move. I shook off a sudden sense of déjà vu, trying to focus. Was he taught not to retreat from a Queen? Or was there dishonor in retreating? I didn't mind waiting. Hell, after one hundred and fifty-four years, I was used to it.

After an undetermined stretch of time, the yautja finally spun around and stalked off.

I resumed following. At first he kept looking over his shoulder and growling his displeasure. When it became clear I would neither leave nor attack, he ignored me. Sheer grit kept him upright, but persistence could only carry so far. When he sat down heavily at the base of a ginormous rock formation hours later, I guessed there'd be no traveling for awhile. I kept my distance. The yautja wanted nothing to do with me, but I could hear how sluggish his blood flowed in his veins. He would get weaker if he didn't get fluids.

 _What are you doing?_ _Leave the damn thing alone,_ a small voice said. _Just let him die. You've done enough._

I left the rocks and loped away, scanning the electromagnetic fields around for other life. Despite the world's barrenness I'd seen creatures scampering in the canyons and cliffs. They appeared a cross between rodent and mountain goat and were far too nimble to catch, their big ears twitching whenever they saw me. I bet they tasted delicious.

Luck was on my side that night when I caught wind of blood. I followed the scent and found some six-legged dog things harrowing a newly-killed rodent goat. That would do. I bulled my way on the scene and a few snarls scared the reluctant predators off.

The young hunter was still there when I returned. He rose to his feet as I neared with a mean-sounding growl. When I was close enough I threw the animal at his feet. He didn't touch it, snarl tapering to a rattle. He looked tempted to throw it back. I half wanted him to. Then I'd eat it myself. When the yautja remained a stubborn bastard and wouldn't touch the meat, I let him be, moving to the other side of the the rock formation. I lowered my body, grunting. The numerous bullet wounds stung like phantom wasps, more annoying than anything else. I wasn't worried about the actual bullets. By now they'd been disintegrated. I gingerly leaned my head against the rocks, careful of the grenade wounds.

I was still settling when I heard twin pressurized hisses. I went quiet, concentrating. I saw through the rock to watch the yautja remove the bio-mask. There was a period of silence as he surveyed the landscape, tusks clacking. Pleased with what he saw—or didn't see—he crouched down and brought the animal close. After examining it, he pressed his face into the soft belly, mandibles latching. He drank as much as he ate, slurping and crunching until only bones, pelt, and unwanted viscera remained.

Satisfied, I stopped watching. The blood would help, but he'd still need to drink water. I found a few clean puddles scattered about the canyons, but the geothermic nature of the planet rendered most of the drinking water into sulfuric pools. Yautja taken care of, I turned my thoughts inward.

One hundred and fifty-four years. The more I repeated the number, the more insane it sounded. A century and a half. Had I truly been a prisoner that long? I examined my four un-aging hands in front of me, tasting the movement of their electrons. I must've read that date wrong. Must've switched a number. I hung onto the thought for a moment before dropping it. I could play sudoku all I wanted, but it wouldn't change reality. Neither could I change the fact everyone I'd ever known was long dead.

 _Wasn't that what we always said, Sarah? New year, new me?_ I thought _._ When I smiled, nothing was funny. Or maybe everything was.

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.s.

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It was early dawn when the yautja went on the move again. Rather than continuing towards the wrecked mothership, he veered deeper among the rocks. He seemed to understand dehydration would kill him faster than I would. I didn't go after him, content to listen from afar. His bio-mask must've helped, because it wasn't long before he found small, hidden pools of fresh water. He removed his mask to bring handfuls to his mouth. Even from my distance I could sense his relief.

As he quenched his thirst my mind wandered. What was I doing, waiting after a yautja pup? I needed to get my own shit together. Needed to figure a plan. But broaching the subject of my new world order seemed too enormous a task. It was too vast, too unknown. I didn't know how the hell to approach it.

I was so tangled in my own head I didn't realize the yautja was already loping away. _Well, at least he knows what he wants,_ I thought as I heaved myself to my feet. Lucky bastard.

Like before, it took no time to reach him. The yautja glanced my way once before pretending I didn't exist. He didn't even growl. I supposed that was progress.

By mid-afternoon we neared the same rocky knoll I first climbed when escaping the yautja ship. The hunter stopped on the ledge, rattling almost too softly to hear. I reached the same ledge and peered out. The crashed mothership stretched like a whale carcass on an ocean floor, incongruous against its surroundings. In time sands would cover it all. Already my imprisonment felt like a nightmare that was never real.

I stole a glance at the hunter. We were the closest since I freed him from the lab, but unless he was pretending bravado, he didn't seem to care. I listened to his heartbeat. There was no need for me to follow anymore; I knew he could make it. Our short journey together was at an end. _No more crutches,_ I thought, wheeling around. _Get your head out your ass and stop feeling sorry for yourself._ It was time to explore some canyons. Get lost. Maybe find myself.

I hadn't taken six steps when I heard a low rumble of wheels. At first I thought I was imagining things and kept going, but it soon the sound grew louder. I paused, lips curling. Had Weyland-Yutani already responded to the research lab's distress calls? No, that didn't make sense. The timeline was too short. And even if they did, why were they traveling to the crashed mothership?

It was about a quarter of a mile out before I sensed it. It was an LTV, but rougher built and open-concept. Humans perched along the sides like leeches, hooting. There were ten of them, all wearing mix-match clothing and covered in military gear. They seemed more like mercenaries than Company employees. Maybe they had a contract with the Company to aid the lab? It wasn't unheard of. Or maybe they were drawn into the fallen mothership like buzzards to a carcass. Not unheard of either.

Whatever the reason, they were coming our way.

The yautja behind me seemed to notice and growled deep in his chest. He tapped some buttons on his wrist computer and suddenly the electrons around him went haywire. To me he was wearing a buzzing coat, but he'd be invisible to anyone who saw in the visible spectrum. Smart move. There'd be no cover between him and the mothership, just wide open plains. I looked at the approaching LTV and its weapons. Unlike the guns I'd encountered at the lab, these looked nasty. I wanted nothing to do with them. I moved off.

At first I thought the humans would keep heading towards the mothership, but they soon swung in a large arc, coughing up grit and dust as they changed course. I kicked into a run, hoping to reach the canyons and rocks mazes, but it was foolish. I'd never reach them in time. Whoops and hollers filled the air as they closed in.

For its clunky design, the LTV was surprisingly nimble. It sidled sideways as I lunged forward, completely avoiding my snapping bite. I caught a mouthful of bullets as they wheeled away. I shook my head and charged. If they were looking to pick a fight, they had one. Suddenly they shot a bolas-type contraption at my legs. I kept my stance wide and the wire wrapped around only one. Even as I screeched at them, my thoughts went cold. There was a hundred reasons why they would want to capture me, and hundred reasons why I couldn't let them.

I launched myself in the air, jumping with all my force. I landed on the hood of the LTV, buckling it under my weight. Their whoops turned to shouts as I tore into the front row, ripping and crunching through bodies. I threw one as if he were a beanbag. A powerful _bang!_ exploded and I fell back, howling. One of my thoracic limbs had been blown off. The chitin around was damaged as well, but I muscled through the pain. Their vehicle stuttered and belched smoke. It was dead.

A woman climbed to the top railing of the LTV and aimed a weapon I'd never seen before. I ducked and showed her my flank, thinking it was another grenade or souped-up smartgun. What blasted me was terrifyingly cold. I shrieked as it coated my length with freezing force. I stumbled, gasping at the biting chill. Weaponized liquid nitrogen. When I was at the Company it'd been nothing but a theory, a working concept. I heard her fire again, this time aiming for my legs. She struck true and I crashed to the ground, joints frozen and unable to move.

I went to rip out my throat with my claws, but hesitated. In that moment of indecision, the remaining humans blasted every inch of my body with more weaponized nitrogen until I was frozen. I couldn't move, could barely sense more than a few dozen feet around me. The pain from the cold settled into a bone-numbing chill. I couldn't decide if I was burning or not. This was worse than when I was with the yautja. In the moment I'd vowed and prepared for, I'd been too weak to do it.

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.s.

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A ship eventually arrived. I listened as I was hooked by cables and winched into the loading dock. The little I could sense showed a dark, messy interior. Empty glass bottles and discarded food packs bounced against my carapace as the ship took off. Like the LTV, this ship had a rough, paramilitary feel. How the hell did these people get their hands on weaponized liquid nitrogen? Or knew where to look for me? I closed my inner vision. I just needed to focus on getting out of this mess.

Humans came and went, routinely re-administering the nitrogen to keep me locked in place. One in particular lingered in her visits. My senses were limited, but I could tell it was the woman who first brought me down. She normally stayed above on the catwalk, but now she moved on the lower level.

She crouched by my head. She didn't touch me, but then again, my carapace was so cold it would've seared her skin.

"You beautiful monster," she said. "Sorry things ended up like this between us."

A man who overheard laughed. "Don't get attached, Kira," he said, moving closer.

"I'm not," the woman replied, but she didn't sound convincing. "It's just sad, that's all."

"Why? It's never stopped you before. Hell, you fired first."

The woman shrugged. "That's what I'm paid for, aren't I?"

"Damn straight." There was a pause as the man stood besides her. "Though I don't know how much we'll get. I don't think many pit bosses will want her all broken up like this."

"That wound on her tail looks old, but it looks like a grenade did that to her crest. Recently, too."

The man grunted. "Did you see the lab? Bet you a thousand credits they did that to her."

"Speaking of credits, she's made us pay, too. Fang and Rodrìguez bought it, and it doesn't look like Adams is gonna make it either."

"That's for sure."

They both fell quiet, maybe thinking of the deaths I'd caused. Who knew. I couldn't read minds.

"Don't get attached," he suddenly repeated, moving away. "She's supposed to be our meal ticket for the next quarter."

Then he was gone. After awhile, the woman left as well.

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.s.

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The mercenaries must've found a buyer, because strong vibrations signaled atmospheric entry. As the ship jostled and shuddered I replayed all the decisions leading me to this point. It was a useless exercise in self-pity. What was done was done. The next time I was free, I was either killing myself or everyone else around.

The ship gave one last shake before falling quiet. We'd landed.

Eventually I was dragged outside. I couldn't sense much beyond my frozen form, but what I could gave the impression of a military base. I didn't think it was the Company's. This place felt unkempt, smaller. Maybe some rogue government was looking for a foothold in the defense contract sector and I was their way in. An underground fighting pit sounded better. When I was human they'd been illegal, destroyed whenever located. At least there I could've had a chance to escape, or fight my way out. Instead, now I'll probably be chopped in tiny pieces in some backwater two-bit scientist's lab. My thoughts shifted. Maybe they would forget to kill me and take me apart until blood loss and agony did me in. Maybe I'd wake up in a floating jar, forever flash-frozen and trapped until I went mad. Hoo-rah.

I was pulled into a makeshift building and left in a small alcove. The ceiling was a kind of metal sheeting. The floors, old concrete. Industrial fans whirled lazily overhead. A generator kept several guns of liquid nitrogen misting over me in regular bursts. But unlike on the mercenary ship, there wasn't a constant flow of humans. If anything, I felt like an afterthought.

I overheard some workers as they tweaked the equipment.

". . . fuckin creepy. I hate how it looks at you."

"The hell you talkin bout? It got no eyes."

"Y'mean you can't feel it lookin at you? 'Cause I can!"

The other grunted. "Just hurry up. It'll be dead soon anyway."

Stupid little minds in stupid little bodies. I hated them.

I waited to die, wishing they'd get on with it. The nitrogen was just a new discomfort in a long line of pain; at this point death was preferable. I tried to retreat inward as I'd done on the yautja ship, but couldn't concentrate enough to float away. When the workers left, I fantasized eating them.

I was still wondering how they'd taste when there was a thud of a heavy body striking the ground. Clicking footsteps approached. The generator continued to hum, but the gun nozzles were suddenly directed away from me, hitting the walls instead. I listened to the buzzing electrons in disbelief.

The young yautja from before crept forward, vicious blade in hand. He must've been a stowaway on the mercenary ship, waiting for the perfect moment. Even as I sensed him use the knife to slice the netting around me, I couldn't believe what I was seeing. The yautja were many things, but never saviors. There was a sudden rush of anger. Even if he was invisible to humans, what he was doing was still suicidal. He should be planets away, trying to find a way home. Not here, not with me, doing whatever the fuck this was. Even if this was a life for a life, it wasn't worth it.

When he was finished cutting through the netting, he crouched by my head, tresses slithering against his shoulders. _You idiot, now you're going to die too,_ I thought. He made an aggressive motion with his hand and growled, as if he wanted to hit me. He didn't, as if knowing I was still too cold to touch. _But not for long,_ I was probably all in my head, but I already felt warmer. I tried moving. I could snap something if I wasn't thawed enough, but I couldn't wait until humans returned and noticed something was wrong. We were fortunate we weren't escaping a Weyland-Yutani facility. There'd be camera and sensors everywhere there. This facility didn't seem to have any, or if they did, someone was taking a long coffee break.

With a colossal effort, I cracked upright. One of my dorsal spikes splintered, but the pain was inconsequential. I kept to large motions, not wanting to accidentally shatter my wrists or other joints. The ambient warmth helped, and before long I was confident I wasn't going to break anything important. I was in the middle of climbing to my legs when there was a gasp. I swung my head towards the entrance. A human stood there, eyes wide.

She fumbled for a moment before pressing a radio to her mouth. "Harvey, get in here! The Que—!"

She fell with a choking gurgle, the yautja's knife buried in her throat. She was dead before she hit the ground. The radio rolled away, chattering.

". . . zzt . . . -ain? Say again? Wha-zzt-happen . . ."

I forced my body into motion, crashing through the walls. They folded like tin cans, crumpling under my feet. Sunlight blazed. People gaped as I thundered past, one man dropping his coffee. I ignored them all, making a blind break for the perimeter. I soon skidded to a stop in front of a tall fence. The air sizzled with electricity. It made my vision dance in flashes of white, near blinding. One touch would fry even me. The thick jungle was just outside the high voltage fence, just out of reach.

"Goddammit!" I whirled around and extended my inner mouth. The fence sounded like it continued on, probably surrounding the whole compound. Unless the electricity was turned off, there was no way out.

A raging howl towards the main base snatched my attention. It was the yautja. He was surrounded. Somehow he'd lost function of his invisibility cloak and was now fighting the crowd, a beast among men. He used several humans as meat shields whenever a marine sprayed his direction with bullets. When the firing stopped he used punches and kicks to break a wide swath of destruction around him. Everyone was shouting orders but no one was following anything. It was chaos.

There was no thought as I rushed in, roaring. Humans scattered like minnows as I entered the fray. I bit and tore whatever I could reach, aiming to sow maximum damage. Bullets peppered my sides, tearing up still-healing wounds until it felt I was wearing a shawl of pain. Someone brought out a smartgun and blasted my way. Pain ignited like a grassfire and I choked, stumbling as one of my legs became swiss cheese. I lurched and found myself by the yautja's side.

Whether by accident or by design, a ring now formed around the yautja and me. There were now at least thirty humans left, all in various states of dress and weaponry. Groans of the dying filled the air. Sheer stubbornness kept me upright as I took in the grim reality. The math wasn't in our favor. There was simply too many and I was weakened, less than before. I looked down at the yautja. He was sporting his own array of bullet wounds, blood running down his abdomen and thighs in rivulets. He seemed to survey the scene and arrive to the same conclusion I had. After a guttural sound, he began taping at his wrist computer.

There was moment of understanding of what he was about to do. I pressed claws to my neck, prepared this time.

Before I could rip my own throat out, a sudden energy blast tore the air and turned two humans into meat chunks. Everyone stared, shocked, as viscera fell like obscene rain. It wasn't until another was eviscerated before the humans devolved into chaos. Three new yautja removed their camouflage and threw themselves in the panicking mob, weapons flashing. The young yautja stopped the countdown and joined in the fight with renewed vigor. Putting pressure on my mangled leg hurt like hell, but I did my part, snapping at people who ran too near.

Who knew how long the bloodbath lasted. Seconds? Minutes? It wasn't long before the four yautja and I were the only creatures left alive standing in carnage. Blood covered the ground. Flies were already starting to buzz around dismembered limbs. I eyed the new yautja. They were all clearly older, experienced hunters, covered in skulls and intricate armor. They could kill or capture me if they wanted.

Except they weren't interested in me at all. The lead yautja strode over the the young one and punched him in the face, causing the bio-mask to fly off. The younger staggered but kept his footing, blinking hard. Then the larger yautja pulled him close and they embraced. When they pulled apart the larger cuffed him again, chattering behind his own bio-mask. They exchanged guttural words before the leader pushed him towards the three others. The older yautja took turns shoving and roughing up the youth, but the abuse lacked malice.

Then the lead yautja turned to me. There was something familiar about him, something I couldn't define. I tensed, unsure what to expect. What use could they have with a broken old Queen? I prepared for one last attack when he reached up and wrote the letters of a name long past in the air.

I stared at the impossibility, unsure if I believed.

The yautja didn't move when I leaned closer. There was more to him now, decked in more skulls and carrying fancier armor. His tresses were longer. But his electrons became clear, and when he removed his bio-mask, I recognized that catlike gaze. His tusks were longer, almost curving. A fierce old scar scrawled across his forehead, the mark of an old opponent. _You've grown,_ I thought. When he moved, others now gave ground.

He repeated the motions in the air, intention unmistakable.

I shook my head even before I realized what I was doing. "No," I said, my conviction surprising me. "Not anymore."

His hand dropped. He didn't understand. Or maybe he did.

I nodded towards the direction of the young yautja. "Your son's an idiot," I said.

He glanced at the youth and chittered. I had once thought to kill one of his sons before turning on him. Now we had saved each other lives. _The world's all gone mad,_ I thought.

"What are you going to do now? I'm no use to you," I said, tensing. It didn't matter if he didn't understand my screeching hisses; my hunter or not, I would never be a slave again.

One of the yautja barked something, perhaps a similar question. My hunter responded with a string of growls. The other quieted. My hunter studied me, mandibles flexing. Then he lifted an arm and shot a blast of energy at the fence. It short-circuited, sending a cascade of explosions through the stands until the whole thing turned dark. It was dead.

 _Freedom._ Suddenly my mangled leg didn't hurt as much, my sides, not as pained. I instantly lumbered my way to the perimeter. I pushed my way through the wiring and found myself standing before wilderness. It wasn't a dream, or a joke. This was real. It was a panorama of life, unknown and vast. I could hide here for years untold. Find peace. Eventually build a hive if I wanted to. I paused and looked back. Only my hunter and his son watched, the others more interested in the dead bodies around them.

My hunter raised his hand, perhaps in farewell.

 _Thank you,_ I thought, then disappeared into the jungle and was gone. There was no tragedy in that.

.

.

.

 _-fin-_


End file.
